


Something Is Not Right

by Chikita



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Appendicitis, Fever, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Medical Conditions, Middle School Training Camp, Oikawa suffers too, Pain, Referenced Surgery, Senpai-Kouhai Relationship, Sick Kageyama, Sickfic, Some Humor, Tobio suffers, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikita/pseuds/Chikita
Summary: During the final night of a training camp with his middle school team, Kageyama is troubled by more than a simple stomachache. Oikawa tries to help, but that's easier said than done when your stubborn little kohai is also your sworn rival.Read: Kageyama is sick and Oikawa makes everything worse.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio & Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 16
Kudos: 338





	Something Is Not Right

**Author's Note:**

> I never know whether to use first or second names when I write Haikyuu characters.
> 
> First sickfic ever, yay. I got the idea from a episode of "Madeline" where they made a whole episode out of the titular little girl ending up in the hospital for the same reason (The title is from the song "Something is Not Right" Madam Clavel was singing) And since I like making my favorite characters suffer horribly, have this. I'm sorry in advance. Really.
> 
> This was written before chapter 387 so my headcanons regarding Kageyama's middle school life have changed a lot since then

“Oikawa-senpai! Help!”

The words echoed through the dorm of the youth training center like a gunshot. Oikawa whipped around to face the speaker, not expecting anyone else but him to be awake at this ungodly hour. In the hallway stood a tall figure clad in short-sleeved pajamas, his hair sticking out in every possible direction. His chest was heaving and though it was too dark for Oikawa to make out his facial features, he instantly recognized the voice.

“Kindaichi-chan? What happened? Is there a spider in your room again?”

Kindaichi drew in a deep, shaking breath before continuing in a squeaky voice, “Kageyama is dying!”

_“What?”_

Oikawa’s breath hitched as his chest tightened with something that he _swore_ wasn’t worry. Either this was all a misunderstanding and Kindaichi was making a ruckus over nothing, or it wasn’t. _Shit._ The two of them stared at each other for a few more seconds, before getting a grip and storming off to the night-quarters of the first years.

When they entered the room, all the lights were on, and unsurprisingly, everyone was awake. The air was filled with a deafening, awkward silence as most of the boys were huddled together in a corner, exchanging muffled whispers. They didn’t even seem to notice Oikawa’s arrival at first. Not before the latter dashed inside to check what the _freaking hell_ was going on here. As soon as they did, they shifted to clear the view and make space for them to get through. Oikawa willed his pounding heart to be still as he crouched down to the boy on the floor. Kunimi was kneeling on his other side, a grim expression on his face, that morphed into one of relief when he looked up to see his classmate and best friend return with their team captain.

Kageyama, the bratty half-pint he both hated and envied, was curled up in fetal position with his back turned to the door. His blanket was kicked off the futon, his head only resting halfway on the pillow. On a closer look, the nape of his neck was shiny with sweat, his shirt sticking to his skin and shoulders heaving with choked sobs. Okay, _wow._ Oikawa had been in a team with that kid for almost a year now, but had never seen him cry even _once._ Not even after losing a match, or after falling onto his face during running exercise and splitting his lip open. It was an odd, borderline disturbing image.

“He’s been like that for about half an hour,” Kunimi said, sounding as apathetic as always, but the way he was stroking Kageyama’s shoulder contradicted him. A shaky whimper escaped the boy’s throat and he curled even further into himself, hands helplessly clawing at his stomach and feet kicking against the sheet. Without hesitation, Oikawa reached over to put his palm on Kageyama’s forehead. It was warm. Not only that, but his whole body was a cramped, trembling mess. He looked positively _awful._ No wonder Kindaichi thought he was about to die.

“Hey, Tobio-chan! What’s going on with you? Hey!”, Oikawa asked to try and get his attention. For some unexplainable, but highly concerning reason, Kageyama was so out of it, Oikawa had to shake his shoulder with a lot more force to even get a reaction.

“Oikawa-san!”, he gasped between shallow breaths, his eyes, glassy and blue, snapping open to stare up at him. He writhed in what must’ve been agony, his flushed face contorting into a tight pinch, and his eyes closing shut with another whimper. A shiver went down Oikawa’s spine, followed by a chill rushing through his whole body. _What the fuck?_ After waking up in the middle of the night, he'd only wanted to go to the bathroom, pee, and rush straight back to bed. Not witness his precious, but stupidly annoying kohai suffer through what had to be the worst stomach cramps in the history of stomach cramps. He was a setter, not a nurse, goddamnit!

“Did he eat something bad during dinner? Something rotten?”, Oikawa asked with trepidation and looked at his other teammates. If he was right, and there _was_ something wrong with the food at the camp, the whole team was in danger of getting sick, including him and Iwa-chan. They wouldn’t be able to attend the Junior High Athletics Meet this year, and that meant no re-match against Ushiwaka, and-

“He didn’t eat much, almost nothing, didn’t even touch his dessert.” Kindaichi’s anxious voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Oikawa couldn’t help but feel like a jerk for thinking about his personal grudge against his other rival when Kageyama was _that_ sick.

“I asked him why, but he said he just wasn’t hungry. He’s _never_ just not hungry!”

“Yeah, that's not like him at all. His face was all white when he came back from the bathroom, so I guess he puked or something,” Hashikami said with a frown. Kunimi and a few of the other players nodded, most of them keeping silent. The atmosphere was uncomfortably tense, but that was to be expected. At least Kunimi’s presence was keeping Kindaichi from panicking too much. It was bad enough _one_ of them was falling apart.

“Sounds like a bad case of the flu. _Shit,”_ Oikawa bit his lip as he caught himself cursing in front of the first years, but none of them seemed to pay enough attention to care.

Now that he recalled their last practice match of the day, Kageyama hadn't been himself during that one either. The sloppy tosses and butchered serves were one thing, but the hunched-over posture, the coach had mistaken for a muscle strain, should've been a sign that something was off. With a sharp, nauseating pang of guilt, Oikawa remembered how he had snickered to himself about a visibly upset Kageyama being forced to sit out the last set. He hadn’t had _any_ idea, that his grumpy expression wasn’t just him sulking about being benched.

“Oikawa-senpai! What do we do with him now?”, one of the newer players with short spiky hair, whose name Oikawa kept forgetting, asked. Like most of the others, he was kneeling on the floor, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of his pajamas as he looked up at him.

Oikawa’s brows furrowed. Of course, he was the oldest here and the captain, and he’d just happened to be awake right when shit was going down. He swallowed most of his anxiety and took another glance at Kageyama. He looked so small, so _helpless,_ not at all like the volleyball genius he was in his mind, whose only reason for existing was to ruin Oikawa’s life. With a huff, he shook his head to get rid of the intrusive thoughts.

Just this once, he needed to be a decent senpai.

“You wait here, and I'll go get the coach,” he decided, but before he could get up to do that, a small hand gripped the front of his shirt. Oikawa looked down at Kageyama, _Tobio,_ whose tear-filled eyes were blown wide, face flushed, and mouth twitching in what appeared like an attempt to form words. For how sick he was, his grip was surprisingly strong, almost enough to tear the fabric.

“Oikawa-san, no! The camp, I can’t just- _No!”_

The words came out strangled, a string of feverish, borderline delusional rambling that only made sense after Oikawa deciphered it in his head. At first, it sounded insane. Why didn’t he want help if he was feeling that miserable? But then again, what would the coach do? Would he give him pills and a hot-water bottle to ease the pain and leave it at that? No, he would at the very least call his parents, or maybe a doctor, meaning that the training camp was over for him. But what difference would it make? He couldn't play volleyball like that anyway.

“Don’t be stupid! I’m trying to help you!”, he snapped and struggled to get free without actually ripping his shirt, but Kageyama only shook his head and tightened his grip even further. But _why?_

Okay, there _was_ that one time Oikawa had worked his ass off in the gym after everyone had left, and messed up his knee. Not to mention that other time he’d been so frustrated after a bad day, he’d almost striked Kageyama across the face. But Kageyama himself? He was a _prodigy_ when it came to volleyball _,_ and most importantly, still a first year. He didn’t have to work as hard to get on his level. The skills Oikawa had to wring out off his fingertips after hours of practice, Kageyama seemed to activate with the push of a button. It was unfair, so freaking _unfair._

“Let go already!”, Oikawa hissed through gritted teeth as he continued to try and pry Kageyama’s fingers off him, “This is embarrassing! Stop it!”

“I don't want to!”, Kageyama shot back and gave the fabric another tug, wide eyes fixating Oikawa’s own before he clenched them shut with a pained whimper, all while clutching his abdomen with his free hand, “Don’t tell the coach! Please, Oikawa-san, I’m _fine!”_

“No, you're not fine! You're in pain, and you have a fever, you dimwit!”

One of his veins started throbbing with irritation. Why was that _brat_ always putting in so much effort? To surpass him faster and piss him off even more?

Just as he was thinking that, Kageyama’s second hand shot up, and this time, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, successfully throwing him off balance. With a _clunk,_ their heads knocked together, causing Oikawa to squeak both in pain and surprise. He barely caught himself on his elbows as they both crashed, him landing on top of Kageyama. What followed was a scene that could’ve come right out of a wrestling match. Oikawa was trying his best to shove the younger boy off by his shoulders, but Kageyama was clinging to him like a leech, holding onto his shirt as if his life depended on it.

It wasn’t until Oikawa accidentally jabbed his elbow into his side, that Kageyama not only released his grip, but _collapsed_ onto the floor with a shriek. It seemed as if Oikawa had either electrocuted him, or managed to find his secret off-switch. His hand made its way back to his stomach and he flopped onto his side, a long, drawn-out howl making Oikawa’s blood curdle. _No._ This couldn’t be just the flu. He hadn’t even pushed him that hard, and Kageyama was acting like he’d been stabbed.

Maybe Kindaichi was right. Maybe he really _was_ going to die.

“Shittykawa, what the hell are you doing? Can’t I leave you alone for _five_ minutes? _”_

Oikawa scrambled up from his rather compromising position and turned on the heel of his bare foot. Iwaizumi stood in the doorway, making a face as if he planned to murder him on the spot.

“Iwa-chan, it’s not what it looks like!” Iwaizumi’s expression darkened further. Surely, if it wasn’t for Kunimi butting in and giving a rough summary of what had happened, he really would’ve murdered Oikawa. Probably with his bare hands too. With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Iwaizumi stepped closer and shoved Oikawa out of the way more roughly than needed. Immediately, he crouched down to Kageyama and tapped his arm until the boy replied with another sob, that sounded even more pathetic and desperate than all the sounds he’d made before.

It tugged at Oikawa’s heartstrings, as annoyed as he was about the throbbing in his head, and having to spend the night here trying to save his bratty little kohai instead of sleeping.

“Kageyama. I’m here. Listen, you need to tell me where it hurts, okay?” Iwaizumi said in that gentle voice he rarely used around his teammates, especially not Oikawa. Kageyama peered up at him and opened his mouth, but this time, no words came out. Instead, he moved his left arm to point at the lower right part of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up, his hand shaking as he did so. It looked somewhat bloated, almost as if something was swollen beneath the skin. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened before he shifted his glance back to Oikawa.

“Go and get the coach instead of fooling around!”, he ordered, voice sounding as gruff as ever, and he continued before Oikawa could open his mouth in protest, “We can’t lose any time here. If this is what I’m thinking it is, he might need surgery. Now!”

 _“Surgery?”_ A murmur went through the room, and Kindaichi looked like he was about to join Kageyama in his crying.

Oikawa swallowed his objections, leaped to his feet and rushed out of the room. _Surgery._ The word continued to echo through his mind even as he was racing down the hallway. Not just a normal stomach ache after eating rotten food, or even something as common as the flu. Shit shit _shit._

Hopefully, it wasn’t already too late to call for help.

About fifteen minutes later, the horn of the ambulance made sure that the rest of the team was wide awake, hours before the sun would be rising. Oikawa tried to listen in on what the paramedics were talking about while they examined Kageyama, soaking up as much information as he could. Sadly, most of the hospital jargon was lost on him.

This time, Kageyama didn't make any attempts to fight back, not even when one of the men stabbed a needle into his arm. No scratching, no headbutting, nothing. He didn't even _flinch._ Hopefully, the suspicious fluid they had injected into his bloodstream was only a painkiller. Everything happened so fast, it was a near traumatic experience for everyone involved.

One moment, Kageyama was in the room with them, and the very next, he was being carried away.

The medics didn’t say much to the coach before they moved outside to load their patient into the back of the car, only something about “further exams”, and “prepping for emergency surgery”. The last thing they saw were the taillights of the ambulance car as it disappeared into the darkness, before the coach hushed them all back inside so he could contact Kageyama’s parents. Now, the only thing to do was wait and hope for the best, as their teammate was left in the hands of strangers. As painful as it was, they had no other choice but to accept it.

It took them at least twenty minutes to get Kindaichi to calm down.

\---

Not much time had passed, and yet, so much had happened. Oikawa was sitting cross-legged on his futon in the room he shared with Iwaizumi, who had lied down next to him. He’d tried going back to sleep a while ago but was too stirred up to even keep his eyes closed for more than a few seconds. Even though he was wrapped up in not one, but two blankets, he was shivering all over, his stomach churning as if he was in the process of getting sick in sympathy.

“Shittykawa, you’re not doing anyone a favor by staying on night watch.” Oikawa huffed. And Iwaizumi was not doing _him_ a favor by playing captain obvious.

“You’re awake too, Iwa-chan. Can’t sleep either?”, he teased, but the tone of his voice betrayed his nervousness. Iwaizumi made a face, sighing deeply as if dealing with a difficult child, and actually sat up in his bed. The room was dark, save for the moonlight coming from the window. Wasn’t there some kind of superstition about how one should avoid getting surgery during a full moon? But even if there wasn’t, the poor kid must be so scared all alone in that dreadful place. Hospitals were always so bleak and white, and smelled like suffering, even worse during nighttime.

Would he even survive? What if he got nervous or fed up with one of the doctors, tried to escape out of the window and broke his neck? _Wait._ He wasn't _that_ stupid, right?

“So, what exactly is wrong with Tobio-chan? I still don’t get it.” Oikawa pulled his knees up to his chest. The security it gave him was fake, but soothing nonetheless.

“He's got appendicitis, probably. The medics more or less confirmed it, but they can’t be sure until they cut him open,” Iwaizumi answered matter of factly, and to Oikawa’s confused and likely horrified face, “It’s when the appendix gets inflamed and has to get removed. You know, that extra part of the colon everyone has, but no one really needs? _That one._ If that thing ruptures and the infection spreads, you can die. Have you seriously never heard of it?”

Oikawa’s nose scrunched up at the mental image. “No? I never had any part of my insides explode and kill me, thank you very much.”

Iwaizumi brushed off his snappy reply. “Me neither, but I heard a few stories from my parents. Apparently, it’s one of the worst pains a person can experience. Feels like you’re being stabbed with a knife."

Oikawa gulped, but the lump in his throat didn’t fade. That explained why Kageyama, usually stoic and emotionally stunted, had been crying so much he’d almost choked on it a few times. And yet, he hadn’t wanted him to get help, just because the training camp, which only lasted for another day, was so important to him. He really was an idiot. A stupidly gifted, annoying, and terribly stubborn volleyball idiot, and maybe one of the most passionate players he knew.

“Is the surgery dangerous?”

The more he asked, the more it felt like the guilt continued to eat him up from inside, and the silence that followed was torture. Fortunately, Iwaizumi answered before Oikawa’s nerves could torment him even more. “I don’t think so. The ambulance came fast enough and the hospital isn’t far away. But he seemed to be in a lot of pain already so I’m not sure. If you want a real answer, ask the doctors, not me.”

“I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi gave him a weird look.

“You don’t have to be sorry, geez. It wasn’t _you_ who gave him an inflamed appendix if that’s what he has. You don’t have that kind of power.”

Oikawa sighed, his head and shoulders dropping in anguish. “I should’ve noticed earlier. I’m the captain, and I didn’t even notice one of my kohais wasn’t eating dinner. What if he dies? What if he dies and the whole team ends up blaming me?” Iwaizumi didn’t even know about him accidentally elbowing Kageyama, and at this point, he was afraid of bringing it up. He could only pray, that he hadn’t done any additional damage. He would never forgive himself if that was the case, even if the fight itself had been Kageyama’s fault. They tended to bring out the worst in each other sometimes.

Iwaizumi shifted closer and slipped an arm around his shoulder. Oikawa leaned on his side, the familiar sensation of his friend's body heat almost instantly calming his nerves. “He’ll be fine, Tooru. If everything goes well, he’ll be ready to play in the tournament and you two can go back to your petty rivalry. As far as I know, the surgery’s pretty much a routine procedure. It could happen to any of us at some point.”

At this, everything in Oikawa’s stomach clenched up, his skin crawling at if the mere idea.

“I hope you’re wrong, Iwa-chan. I want to keep my- whatever that weird thing was called again. I don’t want an ugly surgery scar on my belly.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and backed off. “Be glad you’re healthy then. Now, go back to sleep. We have practice tomorrow.” With that, he slumped onto his pillow and pulled his blanket up to his face to indicate, that he was going to ignore any further questions. With a heavy, not at all overdramatic sigh, Oikawa did the same and closed his eyes, the blankets making him feel warm and safe. With mental images of ruptured intestines, masked men clad in green, and ambulance cars speeding through the night, he finally drifted off into a restless sleep.

\---

Two days later, half of the Kitagawa Daiichi team was visiting Kageyama in the hospital. Since several members of the team couldn't come, they had all signed a Get Well Soon Card to show their support. Kageyama didn’t seem particularly fazed by the latter and was more eager to dig into the curry buns Kunimi had bought for him on the way. Apparently, the hospital rations were either sparse or just bad. But at least he was eating, and that was a sure sign of recovery. His appetite was back, and soon he’d been back to running and jumping, too.

The surgery had gone well, the doctor had told them. No major complications, though it had been a bit of a close call. If nothing else went wrong, he’d be released the following day and would return to school a week later. He’d still have to rest a few weeks, and knowing Kageyama, that would be hell for him. At least the coach had agreed to let him watch volleyball practice, as long as he promised to keep his feet still.

Oddly enough, considering his limited vocabulary, Kageyama had always been good at begging.

"See? Told you he wasn't going to die. You won't get rid of him that easily,” Iwaizumi said with a grin while flipping through one of those tacky hospital magazines on the table, not even looking up at the person he was mocking. Oikawa grimaced and stuck out his tongue from where he was sitting across from his friend, his cheeks heating up with the memories. It was Kindaichi who had come up with that whole "dying" thing. Iwaizumi should be teasing him instead.

Meanwhile, Kageyama was kneeling on the edge of the bed and lifting his shirt, scaring Kindaichi and Kunimi with his three tiny, barely visible surgery scars. From the look on Kageyama’s face, he wasn’t particularly emotional about the whole ordeal, as if getting a part of your intestines chopped off was just something that had to happen every once in a while. If he was upset about anything, it was probably just about his enforced volleyball break.

The room was nicely decorated with long windows framed by curtains in warm orange tones. A small tv, that was currently showing a baseball match, and several pictures of flowers and animals were hanging on the walls. It didn’t look nearly as intimidating as Oikawa had imagined it. But then again, this was a children’s hospital. Kageyama was in good hands, and after surviving that horror of a night, he kind of deserved it.

“The doctor said, he’ll be able to play volleyball with us again in about four weeks. That’s perfect,” Oikawa told Iwaizumi in a hushed voice, quiet enough for the others to not hear.

“What you mean by perfect?”, Iwaizumi asked, his brows furrowing ever so slightly.

“Because, not only will he be fit for the tournament, but I’ll also have four more weeks to take the lead when it comes to setting practice. So, when little Tobio-chan here comes back all out of shape, the coach will obviously give _me_ more time to play in the important matches, but we’ll still have a backup setter. Sounds great, doesn’t it?” He smiled his most innocent smile and folded his hands together, leaning forward on the table to catch his best friend’s eyes.

Iwaizumi frowned, the corners of his lips turning downward. “You’re a horrible person.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa turned his head with a fake pout, and looked over at his kohais surrounding their second youngest teammate and interrogating him with questions about the surgery: “I slept through the whole thing.”, the hospital food: “Bad, but edible. They don’t have any curry.”, and most importantly, how he was feeling: “Bored.”

An amused, but fond smile appeared on Oikawa’s face as he watched Kageyama absolutely suck at carrying a conversation with his teammates. Outside of volleyball, his awkward bluntness was quite endearing.

It was odd. The little volleyball idiot, who usually gave him nothing but grief, was still in the hospital, and yet, Oikawa was already anticipating his return to the gym. As much of a pain he was to deal with on a daily basis, the volleyball club wouldn’t be nearly as lively without him.

And hey, maybe they weren't that different after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I still have my appendix so even though I did my research, I apologize for getting any details wrong. The type of surgery Kags got here is called laparoscopy (keyhole surgery), a type of surgical procedure that allows a surgeon to access the inside of the abdomen and pelvis without having to make large incisions in the skin (source: nhs.uk). It only leaves three small scars instead of one big one, and shortens recovery time. You always learn something new I guess...


End file.
